Good Grade Hunting/Transcript
Mrs. Harris: If you're going to write poetry, you need to expand your senses-- Sydney. What images come to mind when you smell cinnamon? Sydney: I smell... autumn. Leaves. My family around the table at Thanksgiving. Mrs. Harris: Brava, Sydney. Sydney: The crackles of a fire. A dog barks in the distance and the joy-- Mrs. Harris: Okay, moving on. Olive, what do you smell? Olive: (sniffs) I smell... cinnamon? Mrs. Harris: And what else? Olive: Uh... I know this, I know this. (sniffs) Did you have nachos this morning? Mrs. Harris: Actually, it was a breakfast burrito. all Anyway! For your homework, my little chicks, you will compose your first poem. Sydney: Yes! Mrs. Harris: I want you write about something that makes you happy. Make the words flow from your soul. (sighs) I envy your journey. I must take a moment. (deeply inhales) Moment taken. (school bell rings) Mrs. Harris: Ah! Class dismissed. Oh! And don't keep those blindfolds. Thanks to the school board, I have to pay for them myself. They go to conferences in Las Vegas, and I'm reusing staples. Sydney: Olive? Can you believe it? We get to write a poem! Olive: Of course you're excited. You always get "A's" in English. How do you do it? Sydney: I don't know. Words come easy to me. Olive: It's like how you're good in math. That's because math always makes sense. It's like a vending machine. You put in your quarter, you get your chips. But with English, you put in a quarter, and you get confused. :to 1992 Mrs. Harris: All right, my little chicks. Remember, your poems are due tomorrow. Tell me what makes you happy. Young Max: Leo There's a poem due tomorrow? What am I gonna do?! Leo: This might be a crazy idea, but what if you... write a poem? Young Max out of the seat Mrs. Harris? I can't write poetry. Mrs. Harris: I'm sure you have many umplumbed depths, Max. Young Max: Trust me... if I had any depth, I think I'd know it. :[THEME] Judy: Just in time, girls. I'm trying to find the right vibe for my first day of college. So what do you think? Party animal? Or... millennial hipster? Sydney: Grandma, you slay no matter what you wear. Olive: But definitely not the one on the right. Sydney: Or the one on the left. Olive: Grandma Judy, how come you're going to college now? Judy: I never finished. I only got one semester in before you-know-who came along. Max: You mean your loving son who cooks all your meals, keeps the house clean, and supports you in all your endeavors? Judy: Yeah. Him. Sydney: Olive? How does this sounds? "'What presupposes happiness?' said the girl, as lachrymation pooled in her eyes." Olive: Wow... you're like a human dictionary but with really great hair. Sydney: Aw, thanks. Now, show me what you have. Olive: Okay. "What Makes Me Happy. By Olive..." Sydney: And? Olive: That's all I got. I got so freaked out, I started second-guessing my last name. Sydney: It's Rozalski. Olive: See? You're a natural! No wonder you always get "A's" in English. Sydney: Olive? Can I tell you a secret? Olive: You better! Sydney: I wanna be a songwriter. Olive: Seriously?! Sydney: Yeah, and songs are just poems set to music. That's how Taylor Swift started, by writing poetry. Olive: Well, if T. Swift could do it, so could S. Reynolds. Sydney: Thanks, O. Rozalski. Not a name that writes songs, is it? Olive: Nope, that's name that does your taxes. :to 1992 Leo: How's the poem comin'? Young Max: It isn't. It's like I don't know what makes me happy. Okay, I like cake... I like sharks.. my feet are cool! But do they make me happy? Leo: I'll tell you what makes me happy. Working on my dad's laptop. It's the lightest portable computer on the market. :(grunting) :(wood crashes) Leo: It's also unbreakable! Young Max. Leo, I can't mess up on this assignment. I'm barely hanging on in English... and science... and math... all four of those. What am I gonna do?! Leo: Mrs. Harris said to write about what makes you happy. Maybe it's right under your nose. Young Max: You mean my lips? Leo: No, your skateboard! Young Max: That's even better! But we'll keep my lips in my back pocket. Leo: Well, I know what I'm gonna write my poem about. How technology makes our lives easier. (electricity shorts) Judy: (yelling) Hey! My workout tape stopped... thank you! :back to present-day Mrs. Harris: All right, my little chicks. I've read your poems. And congratulations poets. You've all been hatched! Amber... Olive... Olive: Mine actually has egg on it. Mrs. Harris: Sorry, I was grading over breakfast. Sydney: What'd you get? Olive: (gasps) A "C"! Yes! In your face, poetry! Sydney: Oh, yeah! Mrs. Harris: And Sydney... Olive: What'd you get? Like I even have to ask. Sydney: A "B-minus"? Mrs. Harris gave me a "B-minus". Olive: What?! That's "A-plus" poetry. I should know, I don't understand a word of it. Max: Hey, Sydney. What's up? Sydney: I'm not sure. You know that poem I was excited about? I got a "B-minus". Max: So? There's no shame in that... is there? Maybe? Looks like it? Why don't I let you talk. Sydney: I really thought I did a good job. But I guess Mrs. Harris doesn't think so... Max: Mrs. Harris? Lots of scarves? Giant egg? Has you smell weirds things? Sydney: How'd you know? Max: I had her in seventh grade! Sydney: Ohh, no wonder. What did you do? Max: Nothing! Okay, I'll admit, I wasn't always the best student... :to 1992 Young Max: Hi, Mom. Judy: What's wrong? Young Max: Well, you're gonna have to find out about this sooner or later. Judy: Ugh, for goodness' sake! Not a-- you got an "A"?! You got an "A"! Wait... what did you do? Young Max: Nothing! Trust me, I was shocked as you are. Judy: Really? My son got an "A". I'm gonna a hang this in my cubicle at work. I'm tired of looking at your last "A": that handprint from kindergarten. :back to present-day Sydney: You got an "A"? Max: Yes. Mrs. Harris was the most inspirational teacher I ever had. Sydney: But an "A"?! Max: Hey! I have many talents you don't know about. You ever hear me whistle? (sputters, blows air) Well, I got an "A". Sydney: Then why did I get a "B-minus"? Max: Oh come on, it was only your first poem. Don't be so discouraged. Sydney: Maybe you're right. I'll do better next time. Max: And who knows? You might even get an "A". We know she gives 'em. :to 1992 Judy: Hi! I'm Judy, Max's mom. The boy you gave an "A" to? Mrs. Harris: That's right! Max. He talks about you all the time. Judy: He does? Mrs. Harris: No, I just say that. Nobody's ever challenged me on it before. Judy: Here, I brought you some flowers. Mrs. Harris: Aw. Judy: I can't tell you what this means. When I saw that "A", I got this weird feeling in my chest. At first, I thought it was a heart attack, turns out it was pride. Mrs. Harris: Well, you should be proud. Max earned that "A". Judy: Really? Mrs. Harris: (nods her head) Judy: Look, I don't read a lot of poetry. But I read what he wrote, and it didn't sound all that poetic to me. Mrs. Harris: I'll admit, he's no Shakespeare. I mean, the way The Bard uses words, it's-- I must take a moment. (deeply inhales) Moment taken. But Max captured his authentic self, and that was the assignment. Judy: Thank you. (sighs in relief) Mrs. Harris: Was there anything else? Judy: No, I'm just taking it in. Usually, my parent-teacher meetings end with tears and begging. But this has been delightful. back to present-day Mrs. Harris: All right, poets. I've graded your latest poems, "What Makes Me Sad". On a personal note, what makes me sad is on the way here, my trunk flew open, and my egg was scrambled by an 18-wheeler. Sydney: I'm so sorry for the loss. Mrs. Harris: Thank you. Egguardo deserved better. Olive: Yes! Another "C-plus"! I'm crushing it! Sorry, Mrs. Harris. Mrs. Harris: Too soon. Olive: So, how'd you do? (Sydney looks at her) Olive: Oh, no. Not another "B-minus". Sydney: Worse. This time, I got a "C-plus". Olive: How is that possible? Sydney: Maybe that's question for Mrs. Harris. :(school bells rings) Sydney: Mrs. Harris? Mrs. Harris: Yes? Sydney: About this poem-- well, actually, both my poems... I'm kinda confused. English has always been my best subject, and... I worked really hard on them. I don't know what I'm doing worng. Mrs. Harris: Sydney... (sighs) you' use a lot of big words, and fancy images, but... I didn't feel you in it. Sydney: I was in it, I was all over it! It even has my name on it, see? Sydney Reynolds. Mrs. Harris: Listen, Sydney, what I'm trying to tell you is you need to dig deeper. You didn't show me how you really feel. You didn't tell me who you really are. Remember: You're on a journey. Now I must embark on my own journey... to the dry cleaners. Sydney: Thanks, Mrs. Harris. You're absolutely right, I'll just dig deeper... Olive: So, what'd you find out? Sydney: She hates me. Max: Hey, honey, what's up? Sydney: Dad, I don't want to talk about it. Max: Gotcha, we won't. Sydney: Mrs. Harris gave me a "C-plus". Max: Oh, wow, well, did you-- Sydney: I said I didn't want to talk about it. My dream is to be a songwriter and she has me wondering if I can even do it. Aren't you gonna say anything? Max: Are you sure? Sydney. Yes! Max: Well, I think-- Sydney: You know what? I don't want to talk about it. :leaves and Judy arrives :(door slams shut) Max: Hey, Mom, how was your first day? Judy: I don't want to talk about it! College was the worst. Everyone's in a clique. And if they're not in a clique they're in a crew. And if they're not in a crew they're in a squad. And they're not in any of them, they're me! I quit! :(strumming bass) Olive: Hey. Sydney: Hey. Olive. Ready to work on our next poem? Sydney: What's the point? Mrs. Harris hates me. I've gotta figure out a way for her to like me. Olive: (sarcastically) Yeah, that'll happen. (confidently) Yeah, that'll happen. Sydney: Hold it! You know what she does like? My dad. I'm gonna get my dad to invite her over so she can get to know me. Olive: Sounds a little desperate. Sydney: Oh, I passed desperate two exits ago. :to 1992 Young Max: You know? I think I could make a poem out of anything. Quick, throw me a word and I'll... poem it! Leo: Okay! Chicken fingers. Young Max: "Chicken fingers. Taste that lingers". Leo: Dang! You just came up with that? How do you do it? Young Max: It's a gift. Leo: Yeah, it is. You should do one of those poetry slams. Young Max: Not sure what that is but I like the word "slam". Rhymes with "ham". I'm on fire! Leo: A slam's where people get up and read their poems. There's one at a coffee house next to my granddad's barber shop. He calls it... (imitating Granddad) "some dang hippie convention". arrives Young Max: Mom! I'm gonna do a poetry slam. Judy: Really?! You? With your poetry? On stage? Young Max: Yup, toss me a word. Judy: Nightmare. Young Max: "Nightmare. I'm wearing a tight-pair... of underwear." Leo: Boo-yah! Young Max: I'ma go write that down. :and Leo leave Judy: Ohh, poor kid's gonna get boo-yah'd right off stage. :back to present-day Sydney: All right, Olive, by the end of tonight, Mrs. Harris will love me. Olive: So, what do we know about her? Well, she loves everything French. Sydney: Good to know, 'cause I know nada about France. Olive: That's Spanish. Sydney: Okay, less than nada. Olive: You sure this is gonna work? Sydney: Positive! Now, I'm gonna wear this earpiece, and you'll be on the other end to look up anything I don't know. Olive: (gasps) Ooh! Sydney: And I'll cover it with this stylish beret. Olive: Beau chapeau! Sydney: That's French, right? Olive: Just keep the earpiece in. Max: You know, for someone who's quitting college, you're sending a mixed message. Judy: Well, when I went to return my textbooks, I met this new girl, Kayla, who hated cliques as much as I did. So we started one of our own. No one's getting in! (car horn honks) Judy: That's Kayla. We're gonna go hang out at the quad. Later, hater. leaves :(door closes) Sydney: Whoa! Dad, you went all out. Mini-quiches, shrimp. Somebody's trying to get another "A". Max: Please, Mrs. Harris and I are equals. I don't need to impress her. Is a bow tie too much? :(doorbell rings) Sydney: French Mrs. Harris: French Olive: French to Sydney through the earpiece Sydney: what Olive told her Mrs. Harris: French Sydney: Right on! Max: Hi, Mrs. Harris. It's Max. Mrs. Harris: Max, how nice to see you. I just love catching up with my little chicks. Max: Well, I'm a full-grown rooster now. Cock-a-doodle-- do come in, Mrs. Harris. Mrs. Harris: How wonderful of you to invite me over. Max: Of course! You know, I always wanted to thank you for introducing me to poetry. Mrs. Harris: Oh, it's why I get out bed in the morning. Well, that and... a parrot that loses its mind when the sun comes up. (loud squawk) Which reminds me of my favorite poem by Emily Dickinson: "Hope is the Thing of Feathers". Olive: Sydney through the earpiece On it! Max: I don't know that one. Mrs. Harris: "Hope"-- Sydney: "is the thing with feathers..." Olive: the earpiece "That perches in the soul." Sydney: "...that perches in the soul. And sings the tune without the words." Olive: Oh, no! Wi-Fi went out! Sydney: Uh... I must take a moment. Olive: Sydney through the earpiece We're back. Sydney: Moment taken. "And never stops at all." Mrs. Harris: Oh! Max: Where did that come from? Sydney: at his head Right here. Max: Well, you know, there's poetry in what I do. I own a bike shop. Sydney: Cool story, Dad. But you know what else is cool... Olive: earpiece Got it! Found pictures of Mrs. Harris camping on the Columbia River. Sydney: ...camping on the Columbia River. Mrs. Harris: (scoffs) That's uncanny! Sydney: Seriously?! What a random thing to bond over. Max: I was just thinking the same thing. Excuse me. Uh, I kept a copy of "Ode to My Skateboard" and I always wanted to have you sign it. Mrs. Harris: Oh, it would be my pleasure. Sydney: Did you know that the Columbia River is home to one of the greatest salmon hatcheries in the world? Mrs. Harris: Oh, we're still on that. Max: (through earpiece) Sydney, this is your dad. Clever move, but Olive's going now. Olive: We don't have to do this, Mr. Reynolds. You could really use some help on your side of the conversation, too. Mrs. Harris: Whew! Wonder where your dad is. Sydney: I have a pretty good idea. Mrs. Harris: Is this you? Sydney: Yeah. Mrs. Harris: I didn't know you played bass. Sydney: Since I was seven. Mrs. Harris: Really? Some of my favorite musicians are bass players. I just adore John Entwistle of The Who. Well, you probably don't even know who that is. Sydney: Are you kidding?! I'm totally old school. But wait... you're a rocker? Mrs. Harris: Um, I don't know. Would a rocker do this? (imitating electric guitar) Sydney: Whoa. Mrs. Harris: Yeah, "whoa". So, tell me, who's your favorite group? Sydney: Sixteen Oranges. Mrs. Harris: (scoffs) I love Sixteen Oranges! Do you remember two weeks ago when I was "out sick"? Backstage passes. Sydney: Shut up! Oh, no, I just told a teacher to shut up. Mrs. Harris: Don't worry. Tonight, we're just a couple of rockers. (both imitating electric guitars) Mrs. Harris: Ah, Sydney. Thanks for the last night. It was an "A-plus". Sydney: Really? Thank you! Or should I say... rock on. Mrs. Harris: (to all) Okay, chickadees, come pick up your poems. Olive: So? Sydney: A "C". I got a "C"? After all this, a "C"? Olive: But I thought you bonded. Sydney. So did I. How do you say, "How can she do this to me?" In French. Olive: French What? I learned a lot last night. Sydney: I am sick to death of Mrs. Harris grading me. I think it's time I grade her. I give her an "F" as a person, an "F" as a teacher, and an "A-plus" for... phony-ness... Olive: She got voted Teacher of the Year twice. Sydney: Those things are fixed! Olive: Well, why don't we just take a deep, cleansing breath and write our next poem? Sydney: She wants me to dig deeper? Well, here I go. Dig, dig , dig. Oh, look what I found: a molten ball of anger. Oh, what else is in here? Mrs. Harris, have you two met? Wait, that's what I'll write about, Mrs. Harris. Olive: Find anything else in there? Patience? Common sense? Not writing a poem about Mrs. Harris? Max: Hey, did Mrs. Harris say anything about how last night went? Sydney: She said it was an "A-plus". Max: Another "A". I'm on a 20-year roll. Max, you still got it! Sydney: Oh, no, why did I send that poem to Mrs. Harris? You should have stopped me! Olive: I locked you outside. Sydney: You know how quick I climb a tree. Mrs. Harris: Before I pass these out, there is one poem I would like to single out. Sydney Reynolds? Would you come to the front of the class and read this out loud? Sydney: I'm good. Mrs. Harris: Sydney... Sydney: Oop! Shoe's untied! Mrs. Harris: You're wearing slip-ons. Sydney: Good catch. "Ode to My Teacher". Mrs. Harris: A little louder, please. Sydney: "Ode to My Teacher". "'Write a poem,' she said, 'a poem with truth... Write a poem, ' she said, like she understands youth. I try really hard. It hurts, you don't see. I'll always love English, so go ahead, fail me. I'll just write this dumb poem, and say what is real. I'm angry and mad, and that is just what I feel. I hope you enjoyed this dedication from me. A dedication for you, from the girl... with a 'C'". Mrs. Harris: You got a lot of nerve, Miss Reynolds. Sydney: I know, I really didn't mean-- Mrs. Harris: Which is what I said the first time you opened your mouth in class. Nerve! The ability to take risks. This poem showed me that. You're finally living up to your potential, Sydney. Sydney: What? Mrs. Harris: Your grade... (marker scribbles) is an "A". Olive: Let's see some applause, people! :(students applaud) Mrs. Harris: I am really proud of you, Sydney. You too, Olive. Olive: What did I do? Mrs. Harris: All that research on me. French Olive: How did she know?! Sydney: Because my dad was right. When it comes to teachers... she's an "A-plus". :to 1992 Misa: And up next up is Max Reynolds. Young Max: "Skate!" Leo: "Skate, skate, skate." Young Max: "I want to skate. And stay up late." Leo: "Late, late, late." Young Max: "Wouldn't that be great." Leo: "Great, great, great." Young Max: "It's my fate." I love you, Portland! :(Judy applauds) :(crowd groans) :(Judy snaps) Judy: Where you going, Portland? Honey, are you okay? Young Max: What do you mean? Judy: Well, I don't think it went that well. Young Max: Mom, don't you see? I'm so deep, nobody gets me! I'm ahead of my time. Leo: Time, time, time. I'm done. Category:Transcripts Category:Season 1 Transcripts